


Have This Light

by Nadia_Hernandez



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Santana Lopez, Blood, Blood Drinking, F/F, Femslash, Horror, Protective Santana Lopez, True Love, Vampire Bites, Vampire Family, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadia_Hernandez/pseuds/Nadia_Hernandez
Summary: Brittany is a vampire, now. So what? Santana's always known that she was special.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant for Halloween but, well, some real life stuff got in the way and that sucked. So vampires for Thanksgiving, instead. Yay!

So, Brittany was a vampire, now. That was cool, right? Yeah, definitely cool, Santana thought. Vampires were strong. She had already experienced that. Brittany’s hugs were always tight--always--but they never made her ribs creak and groan until this latest adventure. Vampires were beautiful, too… but Brittany was always beautiful, had always been beautiful. 

Santana wouldn’t have known how to quantify what she was like before and after THE CHANGE. And it was always that, in block capitals and maybe even bolded or underlined. The best way she could wrap her head around it, and this still wasn’t perfect, was that before it happened Brittany had been gold and now she was silver… or, maybe, before she had been sunlight and now embodied moonlight instead. Both were beautiful, beautiful enough to make her bones ache, but before she had been warm and now she was so, so cold.

It was little, subtle things, Santana noticed. She could not bear direct sunlight but shade, or a really strong sunblock, took care of that. She seemed paler but, well, Britt had always been a special, pumpkin spice shade of white girl mushroom, hadn’t she? Mostly it was things like her lips… they felt clammy, like rubber, when Santana brushed them with her own and the breath blowing past them chilled her to the bone.

She had special needs, now, too… but that was okay. Brittany had always been special, after all, and Santana knew that you always took care of your girl. That’s how shit rolled in Lima Heights Adjacent. You didn’t turn your back on a homie just cause she smelled a little like rust and wet leaves, now, or had a dietary requirement you didn’t quite understand. I mean… Berry was a vegan, wasn’t she? Finn hadn’t kicked her weird little ass to the curb just because she ate bamboo shoots and shit, after all, and what Brittany needed was way more normal than all that.

So when Brittany started to look a little peaked, like she did now… well, Auntie Snix made it happen, cause that’s what you do. She looked up at her from where she huddled on the bed, wan and way too much like a little eight year old girl in pink, fluffy pajamas with unicorns on them and Santana felt her heart melt, just fucking melt, okay? How could you say no to that, to all that, the crooked smile and big blue eyes with purple smeared under them and down the high cheekbones. She said, “I’m hungry, Santana.”

“I know, baby,” she said, crooning like she was talking in actual fact to an infant. “I know, I know… Mama’s gonna make sure you have something to eat. Something good.”

“Not pig blood, right?” Brittany scrunched up her face in disgust. Even that was just too cute, damn her. “Cause that was really yucky and Lord Tubbington says that pig blood isn’t really good for me cause it has too much cholesterol.”

“No, not pig blood,” she said. “And what would Lord Tubbington know about any of this?”

“He’s the Master Vampire, Santana! He’s gonna lead our dark legions against the Slayer.”

“Aren’t they, like, old? Gonna be super easy to beat. Probably break a hip as soon as one of them tries something.”

Brittany giggled. “Not Slayer, silly… THE Slayer. It’s the one girl in all the world fated to hunt and kill vampires”

It wasn’t a conversation Santana cared to have. She could barely believe, in the one little shred of a rational brain she had left, that any of this was actually, you know, happening. So instead of worrying about it she said, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetie. Let Lord Tubbington worry about it, okay? He’s riding in charge up in this bitch, I guess, so it’s his problem.”

“Okay… but I’m still hungry.”

“And don’t you worry about that, either. Auntie Snix gonna make it rain.”

“I wish I could just taste a little off of you, again. Your blood is, like super sweet, like you.”

It hit her like a fucking arrow, just like a fucking arrow in the heart, okay? Santana winced. “I know you liked my blood, and I don’t mind sharing it with you… I will again as soon as I can. But you remember what happened last time, right?”

“Yeah… you almost drove off the road and into a telephone pole.”

“I could’ve died, Britt-Britt.” That was a big part of it but she knew, too that the sheer, orgasmic intensity of those sharp little fangs--so sharp that they didn’t even hurt going in--at her throat would be too easy to fall into and never climb out. The rushing in her ears along was almost enough to blast her head off like one of those big, black cartoon bombs.

Brittany brightened. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? If you died I could just, like… turn you, right? I’m sure Lord Tubbington wouldn’t mind. We need all the help we can get.”

She really didn’t want to think about the implications of that. She loved Brittany, heart and soul, loved her as she was and for what she had become but… the thought of being like that, caught halfway between the grave and perdition… shit, Santana was still Catholic enough that it shook her to the bottom of her soul. “If I died then I wouldn’t be able to help you out, babe. I have to be able to look out for you.”

“You’re my Renfield.”

Santana wasn’t fully sure she liked the sound of that, either. Renfield sounded like a hella dorky name. Still… “Yeah,” she said. “Renfield. That’ll work. Just… sit tight til I get back with some blood for you, okay?”

“Okay. Santana…” 

It was a plaintive, little girl whimper that would have snatched her soul back from heaven. “Yeah, baby?”

“You’re asking nicely before you get me the blood, aren’t you? You’re not hurting anyone?”

“I’m not.”

“Promise?”

“Promise on my honor as a Cheerio.” She smiled and offered her pinkie. Brittany took it. The touch of their fingers, one warm and one cool, felt electric in the night air.

Santana broke the magic contact and cast one look back at Brittany before leaving. You’ll do some crazy shit for love, she thought, and then ducked out the window to hunt.


	2. Chapter 2

You’ll do some crazy shit for love. That had become Santana’s mantra, her prayer, the only thing she could hold onto to keep that last little sliver of sanity from fluttering away like a goddamn butterfly or a bat or something. She was doing this for love, because she loved Brittany. It was necessary, dammnit, even, like, noble. It was what she had to do for the person she loved more tha anyone else.

Otherwise? Otherwise this was a situation that looked very, very bad. She had never been what you’d call a “good girl,” like Quinn or that annoying ass hobbit but… “good girl” and “bad girl” didn’t really seem to adequately capture the heinous fuckery of chopping a dude’s arms, legs and head off with a shovel.

Yeah. It was just as bad as it sounded.

This wasn’t her first, of course… Brittany had been among the undead for a couple of months now and, well, everything had to eat, didn’t it? Her second… her second. And the really bad part of it was that it had gotten easier. Not physically, really--it was still hard, miserable work hacking through muscle and bone with a dull blade but her back and arms were already strong from her years in the pyramid--but emotionally. Psychologically. It wasn’t the kind of thing that Santana thought should get easier but… whatevs. They said that anything you did for two weeks became habit, like brushing your teeth or not biting your sister. You climbed a mountain once and it was something, a thousand times, big whoop.

And it’s not like--she knew this felt like rationalizing but couldn’t process it at precisely that moment--the guy she killed was some paragon of virtue or anything. Maybe if she’d killed a nun or something, that might have felt blasphemous. But she remembered how his eyes crawled over her when he said, “SweetMeat14? It’s DaddyHorndog… from the chat.”

“Yeah, Papi, it’s me,” she said and let her lips curl wickedly. Seductively. She was really good at that.

“I was kinda scared at first that you were one of those cops, you know… like the SUV lady.”

“SVU? I’m not a special victim, baby… I’m your special treat.”

“Yeah, S something or the other. But you’re not… you’re really real.”

“As real as all your dreams are gonna be soon, Papi,” she said, and let him come to her. She let him get a few kisses--and it was a shame he was a freaking pervert cause he was an okay kisser--and a fumble at her ass over the tight, leopard print dress she wore. It was the least she could do cause two seconds later? 

Cut-cut! 

He fell on the motel floor and she dragged him to the bathroom for processing. It unpleasant and she liked to push the details out of her mind but, well, she thought, you really do some weird, fucked up shit for love. She kept Brittany’s wide blue eyes and pale, pale face in her vision while she tapped DaddyHorndog like a keg to drain into plastic bags, like the kind they kept saline in at the hospital, and while she dismembered him into Hefty Bags. She thought about it really, really hard when the smell of his evacuation slammed into her nose like a sledgehammer and when she dumped the whole mess into a neatly dug grave mixed with quick lime.

Man, she thought, Coach Sylvester’s serial killer seminar really did come in handy. News you can use, dawg.

Well, that sports bra and sweatpants combo were just about finished, so into the grave with DaddyHordog they went. I sure hope that clothes will dissolve along with meat and bones and junk, she thought. Sue never covered that part. Basically I hope no one ever stumbles on this, like ever. Or even notices that he’s gone. Why would they? Pervs are the literal worst.

She changed into a black leggings and top combo that was stylish but not enough to draw attention and made a slow, careful treck back to Lima. Getting stopped by statie or even local guy wouldn’t do with five liter bags of blood in a cooler in the trunk, after all. Shanking some rando off the Net was one thing but a cop? She’d end up arrested or shot down like a rabid dog for sure.

And would that, a quiet voice in her murmured, be anything more than you deserve?

She pushed it away and sang along to Shadowland while she drove--five miles per hour below the speed limit, thank you. Lady loving was the best loving in Santana’s considerable experience.

She found Brittany still sitting on the bed, a snowflower peeking up from the deeply piled pink of her unicorn bedclothes. She smiled, “Hey, Santana. Did you bring me something sweet?”

“Only the sweetest for my baby,” Santana cooed. She offered up the cooler.

Brittany opened it with an expression one shade beyond ravenous and reached for one of the bags but froze before she actually touched it. “You did ask nicely, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she replied.

“And he was cool with it?”

“Totally. I just let him grab my ass a little.”

Brittany grimaced. “I don’t feel totally comfortable that you have to do that to feed my… addiction.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she said, “it’s okay. Nothing you wouldn’t do for me, right?”

“I’d crawl to the moon and back for you,” she said, “even though Lord Tubbington says that it’s impossible even now because I’d freeze in the vacuum of space, be unable to move my limbs and just drift into the endless black. And I said that I hadn’t heard any of his albums but that Kodak Black wasn’t too bad, and he said that he preferred the hardcore stylings of Bodycount.”

“Er, yeah.”

She paused for a long moment. “Santana…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re sure you didn’t hurt anybody, right? Promise? I’d really hate it if you had to hurt somebody to get my blood for me.”

“I promise.” It was a lie but… fuck it. If you could look into those huge, blue eyes and say anything that caused an ounce of pain to catch there then you just… sucked beyond sucking. That was way worse than a little serial murder.

“Okay.” Brittany began to feed. She did not intend to but, as always, Santana had to look away. It was not something pelasant to watch. That beautiful face, the one she loved so much, the lodestar of her entire damn life and cornerstone of her madness, turned into something that was at the same time so demonically beautiful and angelically feral that it was not meant for human eyes.

When she was finally done--three bags down and two left for the mini-fridge against the next time she felt hungry--Brittany sighed contentedly. “That’s perfect.” She wiped a little smudge of sluggish, purple black away from the corner of her mouth with the back of a hand that was pink once more with life. 

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Will you come and hold me while I go to sleep? Stroke my hair and stuff?”

“Of course, baby, of course.”

“Thank you.” 

Santana slid into bed beside her and wrapped her arms tight around Brittany’s waist while she drifted into the weird oblivion that they still called, for lack of a better term, sleep. It wasn’t exactly, not quite, and was populated by horrors with teeth and queer, dislocated jaws that were both more and less than dreams but it seemed to serve some purpose that neither of them could quite fathom again. 

Brittany grew warm, almost as warm as she had been in life, under Santana’s touch. She was not sure if this had to do with the blood metabolizing in her through some freak ass vampire thing--Lord T or whoever the actual Master was had proven distinctly unreliable with the basic vampire sex ed shit--or if it was just her own body heat radiating to the other woman. It didn’t matter… Santana would give Brittany all the heat she needed, all the blood, her fucking life if need be.

She realized, and not for the first time, that she was probably irrevocably damned for this and felt surprisingly okay with the notion. Her parent’s little God club had already kicked her out of heaven just for loving a human Brittany and she was pretty sure that when a vampire sauntered up to those Pearly Gates then Saint Peter would turn them away fast enough to make their little undead (redead?) head spin. But that was okay… it was okay. Heaven without Brittany would be hell, anyway, so she consigned herself to an eternity of darkness as long as she could have this light.


End file.
